Lost For Always
by justanothermarionette
Summary: Student!Santana and Teacher!Quinn... let me know?
1. Chapter 1

AN: Just testing out the waters with this one. Love the pairing, would love some honest feedback. You know, if anyone reads it.

This is pretty much a prologue. First chapter is already started if people like this. (:

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**Chapter One: Lost For Always**

"I think that's stupid."

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. I mean, come on. You're really gonna throw your whole life away just because you're horny?"

"Not in class."

"Fine. But honestly? Sixteen and pregnant? Sluts. All of 'em." This fucker finishes his ignorant rant with his arms crossed over his chest and a shrug of his shoulders.

"_Not_ in class, Finn."

He doesn't even have the decency to look ashamed of himself, as he should be.

"All right. So," Miss Fabray speaks again, I hang on every word. "Now I have to ask, Finn... everyone, really. What would you say if I told you that I have an eight year old child?"

My eyes must be falling out of their sockets at this moment. But like always, no one notices. So I'm free to gasp and turn green and try not to vomit, all in secret.

"Do you?" The boy asks.

"Yes, I do." Miss Fabray answers him calmly; always so collected. She wears that smile on her face. Every day. There's a slight furrow in her brow now, and I'd like to smooth it away.

"Well, I wouldn't know if you're loose," her smile disappears, and her lips quirk downward. "But you're just a teacher, anyway. It's not like you've got a whole lot going for you."

My body shoots out from behind my desk and I'm across the room in no more than a second. My fingers flex around Finn's neck and I squeeze just as hard as I can.

Then the bell rings and I snap out of my vision; my fantasy.

"You're all excused." Miss Fabray says curtly as she spins around to start erasing chalk off the board.

I want to know why, when all the other teachers at McKinley use whiteboards and markers, Miss Fabray uses chalk. I want to know a lot of things about her.

All of my 'peers' have left the classroom now. Meanwhile, I've been staring at my teachers' tendons in her wrist, flexing as her hand swipes back and forth across the black board. All of the white letters are gone and she leans her forehead against the board. She exhales heavily and taps her head against the board a few times, mumbling under her breath.

"Miss Fabray?"

She startles and turns around quickly. Her brow is slightly furrowed again, but she gives nothing else away in her expression.

"Um..." I start lamely. I'm out from behind my desk now and my hands keep clenching around nothing, slick with sweat. "I-I was just... um." Super fucking intelligent. "Are you ok?" I finally force it out, accompanying my rising gaze which lands on her own.

Her eyes (so deep, I might get lost for always) soften and she smiles again. "I'm fine, Santana. Thank you."

"Cool." It's silent for an uncomfortable amount of time after that; a stretch that I haven't used to exit the room. Or stop staring into her. "He's wrong."

"He has an opinion."

"He's wrong." I insist. "What you do... you know, teach. It's pretty great." I'm somehow managing not to stutter. "It's really great, like, for me." I feel my face heat immensely and I can no longer look at her. My fingers begin running along a desk nervously. "Um, you're a great teacher. And... I just mean that he's wrong." I feel confident in what I'm saying; strong. I snap my eyes back up to hers, shimmering golden orbs. "He's wrong about you."

She gazes at me for a long moment. Studying me, maybe. She leans back against her desk and takes a deep breath. "Thank you, Santana." I can't move, my throat won't work and my tongue feels dry. "Really." She breathes out.

"Yeah." There's an insistent fluttering in my stomach and a buzzing throughout my entire body. One that's been there all year. And then a burning in my cheeks. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

Her smile broadens and I feel my own lips tick upward. "A girl. Beth."

"Beautiful." It may sound like a comment about her daughter's name. But I know. I know that it is and it isn't. Beth is a beautiful name for what I'm sure is a beautiful little girl. But the idea of Miss Fabray _having_ a daughter is somehow beautiful. Strange in a way that it'd never crossed my mind before, what with her being so young. Twenty-six, she'd told us all on the first day of my junior year.

But now that I _know_ she has a child... a _daughter_... I just, I don't know. She's a mother. And I feel... so many things, it's hard to pinpoint just one at the moment.

"Her father named her." Her light, airy voice breaks me out of my strange reverence.

My stomach churns at that. Where did I think the kid came from? Miss Fabray just spontaneously reproduces on her own? "What's his name?" I don't know why, but I have to know.

"Noah-"

"Puck?" I interrupt her, disgust clear in my voice. I wince at the sound of it. I nearly choke on the prospect of that... _boy_ inside of... Ugh.

"How do you know Puck?" She asks, clearly confused.

My mind is swimming, but somehow I pick out a sentence. "I, uh, used to to see him at the bar."

"The bar?"

"Yeah, you know _the bar_. The only one in this bullshit town. _Puck_ is the father?" I know I sound much more concerned than I have any right to be, and when I look at her beautiful face again, I can tell she's confused.

Her brow quirks in a way that I've never seen before. "Why are you at the _bar_?"

"Oh, well thanks for ignoring my question." My arms raise slightly and land on my thighs with a thud. We both know. That something's going on in my delusional brain. But she doesn't look scared; just curious.

"Yes." She nods once, resolute. "How do you know him?" She asks stiltedly.

"All the girls know him." It's very true. But it was the wrong thing to say. Thoughtless.

Her eyes lower to the floor and a smile tries to compensate for the frown lines in her forehead. "Yes, well. You have a good day, Santana."

"Miss Fabray, I didn't-"

"I'm tired. And I need to get home. To my daughter." She looks me dead in the eye. Piercing me. And we both know that we're both hurt now. But neither of us knows why.

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AN2: Please review! Anything constructive would be awesome!


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thanks so much guys! You're all so awesome. (:**

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**Chapter Two: That Gets Her A Drink**

The way that I march out of her classroom and down the school's hallway is somewhat petulant. It's adolescent in a way that I've been avoiding. No need for the young, pretty teacher to see me behave like a sixteen year old girl; like what I am. And when I climb into my dark Lexus, I've never felt so irredeemably young. For god's sake, I'm banging the steering wheel in the car my rich doctor daddy bought me for my sweet fucking sixteen.

'All the girls know him.' What the fuck is wrong with me?

All year, I've been building this image in Miss Fabray's class. I've been sweet and fucking courteous. It's been disgusting at times.

And then the one time I actually speak up... God, this is gonna be weird tomorrow.

There's a flash of choppy blonde and I lunge for my iPod, plug it in and press play. My car literally shakes from the volume of the music. I don't care. I roll down the windows before speeding toward the exit. Maybe I want her to see me; hear what I'm screaming at the top of my lungs.

_"Like a rock hit my heart; started to chain the day and exploded into pieces."_

* * *

My room is my home. It's a sanctuary, really. Anything outside of _this_room could turn ugly or betray me. But my room just wraps me up like a blanket.

Though, I wish the walls were a little thicker.

Mom's yelling at Dad over the phone again. It's a one-sided conversation from up here, but it sounds like he might be cheating on her again.

It's hard for me to understand; fucking somebody who isn't your partner. I mean, if you have a partner. If not, go ahead. Fuck yourself silly. But honestly? I'm not stupid. I know who I am, and I know I'm not easy to take sometimes. So if I ever find anybody who puts up with my shit and kinda, sorta loves me? That's it. I have sex with _that_girl and nobody else.

And when I think of my father, a slew of derogatory terms come to mind. When I think of my mother putting up with his bullshit for twenty years, and him going off and fucking whoever he wants, and her crying herself to sleep and taking him back...

I go to _the bar._

* * *

"I'm here _all_the time."

"Don't care. Never seen you before."

"And it's _my_fault you drink on the job?"

"You know, it doesn't really help your case - being a little b-"

"Santana?"

Finally. That _little bitch_barkeep was about to get familiar.

"What's up, my Latina love?"

Bile rises up in my throat, but I manage to swallow it down. Though, it is much harder now that I _know_.

"Puck." Wow. That _almost_didn't sound like it was spat out through gritted teeth.

"Damn it, girl. I haven't seen you in like, _ever._" His stupid chuckle after he manages to slur that golden nugget out lets me know that he's had too much to drink. I almost want to just leave - punch him in the mouth and then leave.

But I'm too smart and menacing for that.

"Yeah, it's been a _whole_three weeks." I say as light-heartedly as I possibly can.

"Fuck, it feels like longer. I mean, three weeks without _that ass_is just... torture, babe." Ew. The hand on the small of my back? I will literally throw up on his stupid mohawk if it doesn't stop moving. Oh god.

"You've never had this ass, Puckerman. Never have, never will." I pick his wrist up between my index finger and thumb, as if it disgusts me. It fucking does.

"_That_gets her a drink." The barkeep speaks up. "On the house." He throws in with a wink. It's not flirty of expectant. I smile at him and take my whiskey.

Puck looks mildly hurt. He's doing that pout that gets him laid all the time. Ugh. Vomit, vomit, vomit.

"Don't look at me like that." I nearly laugh out. My eyes never leave his as I take a long sip from my glass. The wood of the bar clinks against my glass when I set it down and it draws Puck's attention pathetically, like the drunkard he is. So I snap my fingers next to his ear and his neck snaps back so he can look at me. "Why don't you have a seat." It's a command. He knows it.

I'm not the only underaged kid in this bar. I might be the youngest, though. But that's never been a problem. I get what I want from who I want it from. It's a beautiful thing.

"Ok, what's up, baby?" Puck slurs out after he finally finds a comfortable position to sit in. His elbow is on the bar and his head is resting against his raised fist.

"Fabray." I say simply; curtly.

His hazy eyes double in size and I can hear his breath catch. Puck rolls his shoulders and sits up straighter. A stupid smirk pulls at his visibly cracked lips. "Top five. Easy."

It rolls out of his mouth like liquid. My face hardens and I turn to my glass. unable to even _look_ at this... _thing_. The warm, amber drink is so smooth; there's hardly any burn in my throat. So I chug the rest of my double-shot down quickly. I set the glass back down on the bar gently, turn my body and somehow - through the red and the haze and the disgusting jealousy - my fist connects with his jaw.

Puck is so drunk that he simply falls backward, off the stool and onto the ground. His head bangs against the floor and I can already see several women desperate to tend to the asshole.

Maybe it was a bad idea, coming here. I knew I'd see him. Some part of me must have wanted it; to see him in pain, just to see his reaction.

"Have fun with him, assholes." And I walk out of the bar.

The night air is cold against my bare arms. If I had stayed for another drink, I'd be warmer. The friction my hands make as they rub up and down my upper arms will have to do.

I've never hit anybody before. Sure, cussing someone out, making a person feel less than; those are kinda my things. You cross me, you best recognize. And I'm so fucking _good_at it; at this defense; at building my walls. I've never hit a person before, though.

I can't bring myself to care. He had it coming. Pieces of shit like Puck are why alcohol and contraception were invented. Oh god. I feel the bile again. Miss Fabray is so... perfect. And I can't get the image of the two of them together out of my head.

* * *

_Junior year can go fuck itself. It's only the first day of school and I literally want to _punch_ everyone in the _face_. _

_At least this is the last class, and then I can go home and... I don't know, watch tv? I guess I don't really have anything better to do._

_Multimedia is boring. Again. As long as I meet the requirements of each project I can spend the rest of my time fucking around on the Internet._

_Chemistry is stupid. It's like math, but with science, or something._

_Math is Calculus and I might kill myself before he semester is over._

_Shuester's got us all singing about happy shit in Glee, fifth period, just like old times. I sing pretty well when I'm not gagging on some stupid fucking lyrics._

_US History makes me giggle, and then all the kids look at me funny. It's not my fault I have a sick sense of humor. Maybe I was just born that way. Or maybe it's a coping mechanism, but that's none of their fucking business._

_And now there's English. _

_Maybe I'm arrogant, but I think I get pretty colorful with the English language most of the time. There's really no point in taking it _again_. And on top of it all, there's a new teacher. Some young thing, sure to be incompetent and unable to handle thirty sixteen year old kids. All the boys will probably drool all over her, just because her age will assuage their desperate, erratic hormones. I'd find out I'm right if she would fucking get here. _

_I'm always the first to class. It's not like people are stopping me to chat in the halls. It's not like I mind, though. Having a conversation with one of these fcukers is probably akin to having a tooth pulled. Or just dying._

_And I guess this is the attitude that's built my reputation._

_People _tried_ to talk to me. Like, in Freshman year. And I was a cold bitch. Just the way I still am. _

_Guys would come up to me and tell me they knew just how to wipe that scowl off my face. They spread around the rumor that they had 'tamed' me. The girls eventually thought I was a slut and the boys kept trying. Until I sprained Finn Hudson's wrist after he tried to graze my breast at my locker. Then I became violent and unapproachable. _

_There was one girl that kinda grew on me though. _

_Rachel Berry was Finn Hudson's girlfriend at the time of the incident. She had finally found her boyfriend in the hall and was, to say the least, appalled to see the direction Finn's meaty hand was taking. And then she gasped when I twisted his forearm and pinned him against the lockers. I had looked behind me to find her wide-eyed with a hand covering her mouth. Those big, brown doe eyes got me, and it only took me a second to realize that I felt _bad_ for what she had just seen._

_I ran off after that, but she approached me - the unapproachable - the next day. It was very obvious right away how painfully straight she was, so I never thought passed friendship. Which was odd for me. But now she's kinda like, my... _best friend_. It's nice, I have to admit._

_I'm broken from my reverie by a poised blonde traipsing down the aisle of desks and up to the chalkboard. A black pencil skirt hugs her waist and shimmers over her ass. My mouth goes dry. She has dark grey, two inch heels and a white blouse tucked into her skirt. The short sleeves reveal creamy skin stretched over lithe arms as she reaches to write something down on the board._

_'Miss Fabray.'_

_I swallow. _Hard_. _

_And then she turns around and I lose my breath. Flawless. That's the only word that comes to mind. Flawless beauty. _

_Our eyes lock for a moment; hers are a light golden color with flecks of green. _

_"Hello."_

_I can't answer. None of the words in_ _my brain make any sense right now_.  
_  
Her blonde brow furrows before she says, "I'm Miss Fabray. I'm going to be your English 3 teacher this year."_

I nod dumbly.

She giggles shortly and breaks our connection briefly, moving her feet to walk to the front of her desk, leaning against it.

"And who might you be?" Her brow arches; a complete invert from before. It's

crazy_sexy._

Oh! Question... Answer.

"Santa." I blurt out. Somehow, that brow rises even higher. "Ana!" Oops. "Um... San-tan-a. Lopez." I clear my throat and look away, embarrassed.

"I might need the phonetic spelling for that one." I look up at her teasing tone, smiling like an idiot, and she winks.

I'm in fucking

trouble_._

* * *

I've spent every school day since then smiling shyly and trying to get Miss Fabray to wink at me again.

And now _this_happens. She's got a kid. A daughter. With some fucker that hangs out in town and bangs any chick that'll open her legs.

How could that happen? I just don't understand how fucking _Puck_ could have _ever_ talked his way into _her_good graces.

I've managed to stumble home now. It's sleepy time. Tomorrow I've got school. And I'm so fucking excited I just can't stand it.

God, I need to talk to Rae.

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**AN2: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think?**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: So… THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! Also, sorry in advance to the anon "gw." We don't have any Rachel time yet, but she will come into play eventually. I'm sorry if that turns you away from the story. I guess we feel differently about the character. But I would like to remind you that the focus of this fic will remain largely on Quinntana. So I hope you give my Rachel a chance. Thanks for reading. Everyone! (:**

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**Chapter Three: Literally Blue**

"'He had come a long way to this blue lawn.'"

She pauses. She catches my eye for the seventh time since class began. She looks at me suspiciously, as if she knows something about me that even I haven't learned yet. It makes me squirm in my seat and its completely thrilling.

"This must be the hundredth time that something of Gatsby's has been described as 'blue.'" Her eyes never leave mine, and I don't dare look away. "Why?" She asks the class, but it feels personal somehow.

"Well his trees are blue, or something, right?" Finn Hudson is such a fucking idiot, I hate him.

Miss Fabray's brows furrow and her head tilts, her gaze finally leaving mine.

"I thought he had like, blue gardens, or something."

A few people snicker and Miss Fabray's shoulders rise and fall in a silent sigh. "No, Finn. Gatsby's plants aren't literally blue in color."

"Oh."

I shake my head and lean back in my seat, as much as my desk allows. I stare up to the ceiling, waiting for this to be over. I mean, I usually love this class. But there is so much boiling just beneath my skin right now, it's hard for me to sit still. Especially when she keeps looking at me like that.

"Santana."

My head snaps to the sound of my name and I find Miss Fabray at the front of the classroom staring at me; waiting... not so patiently.

"Um..." Is my immediate response. Such a fucking idiot. This garners a few laughs as well. "Um, blue as in like... sad?"

Give me a piece a paper with some questions and a pen and I'll explain to you what each fucking color represents in this book. But make me use my words around _her_? Not gonna happen.

She stares me down a second longer and then nods once, with a mumbled 'good' drowned out by the bell.

My chest heaves as I release the breath I've been holding since I last spoke. But then I shoot up from my seat and begin putting my things into my backpack, so fucking ready to _get out_.

"Santana? Stay a couple of minutes, ok?"

Good god. Why is this happening to me? What is she gonna do? I fucking rule in this class, I'm not failing. Oh god. She's going to tell me what a little creeper I am, for yesterday. She's going to tell me to mind my own fucking business. Oh shit. Oh _shit_.

I gather up my things, sling my bag over my shoulders and take measured steps up to her desk as she wipes away our chalky, intellectual thinking for the day.

I hang my head low, but I can see her feet turn her body around. She clears her throat and I look up. Well, level. She's not wearing heels today.

"That was a good answer, good job in class today."

I blink owlishly before replying with, "Thanks?"

Then she stares at me again. It's the same stare she's been giving me all day; in class, in the halls...

"You're a very smart young woman, Santana." I'm so fucking confused, it's unreal. But before I can awkwardly say 'thanks' again, she continues. "So I've been trying to put together some puzzle pieces from last night, and I just cannot think of a better person to help me."

"Ok..." I draw out. This is fucking weird. Why is she doing puzzles? "Are they water-damaged, or..." She lowers her head to hide a growing smile. I made her smile against her will. Awesome. "I have this kick ass Beauty & the Beast puzzle, maybe you wanna give that one a go?" Her lips stretch into a full blown grin ad I chuckle a little.

She shakes her head and says, "Wait, wait, wait. I am *not* supposed to be laughing right now."

"Oh." I say lightly and watch as she struggles to suppress her smile. "You're still... smiling, though."

Miss Fabray looks as if she might laugh but she takes a deep breath and schools her features instead. Her golden gaze finds mine again, and her lips twitch the slightest bit upward. Probably because I'm still smirking like a fucking idiot. But then they move again.

"I got a call last night." She says lowly, as if this is a secret. I suppose it might be. I have no idea why Miss Fabray is about to tell me about a phone call. "From Puck." My smile disappears completely. "He was... well, he was crying. _Wasted_." She continues, shaking her head. "He told me a kid he knows, named Santana, popped him one in the jaw last night."

I barely even give a shit that she knows. The only thing I can think of to say is, "So you two still talk?"

Completely inappropriate.

"No." It's rushed out and I look back to her quickly. To see her face. She seems to wince a little before continuing. "That's not the point, though." She says, looking me dead in the eye. Again. "He wouldn't tell me why you did that, and I can't seem to figure it out myself, so..."

Her eyes are softer than I've seen them since before yesterday. It reminds that, for some reason, I trust this woman. I care for her in a way that I shouldn't but am a slave to, nonetheless.

"I, ah..." I clear my throat. "I asked him about you."

"Santana-"

"I didn't like what he had to say."

There's a long pause where my jaw clenches and she studies my face, eyes darting across my features.

"You shouldn't have asked."

"He shouldn't be such fuck ass."

"May I ask why you care?"

I take a deep breath, contemplating my options. I can tell her that I'd hit any man who spoke about any woman the way that Puck did last night. But that's not true. Hell, _I've _talked like that about girls _to _Puck. And I don't really want to lie to Miss Fabray. I don't know why, I just...

"It's a lot of things." When I look into her eyes, I can tell its not enough. For either of us. "I think... I care about you, or whatever." Shit, her eyes are widening. "Not like a crazy kid." I add quickly, but it hasn't assuaged her suspicions. "I just, I don't wanna hear people talk about you like you're some... _fucking _score. It was _disgusting_," and my feet are carrying me closer to her. She doesn't move an inch, not one part of her. "And I just lost it. I wasn't drunk, so I don't have anything to blame it on, ok? I just _hit _him. And it felt _r__eally _good."

I'm too close now, but I can't move away. Our breaths mingle each time we exhale, and if I had any _less _presence of mind right now, I think I could taste her. My hand starts moving to a place my brain hasn't given it access to. But it's a conscience decision, pausing in mid air and _then _settling my loose grip on her hip.

Our breaths catch.

"Why are you doing this?"

I can barely hear her; a strained whisper from a lowered head. I study the crown, golden like honey. I can smell her vanilla shampoo. She hasn't moved my hand from her body, and I would never dare.

My voice feels like its clawing its way up my throat, leaping out of my mouth, burning my lips as I finally speak.

"Did you love him?"

Miss Fabray finally lifts her head to look me in the eye. Probably because I sound like I might cry. Her brow is furrowed, as if I haven't put together her fucking puzzle yet. It's so clear... Why is she making me say it?

"I wish I'd met you before he did."

She chokes out a laugh and moves away from my hand - away from me - and stops by the window, whipping around to face me, hair settling back onto her shoulders like a movie.

"When you were, what, _five_?"

She looks on the verge of tears. I don't know what I've done wrong. Should I have not touched her? Maybe I shouldn't have touched Puck. Maybe I should rewind to the beginning of the fucking year so that I can close my eyes when I first meet Miss Fabray.

"I was eight." I mumble, because I know it's not the point. But I obviously fucking lack self control.

"What?"

I clear my throat an say again, "I would have been eight." She looks at me like I'm insane. Shit, maybe I am. "When you were fifteen, I would have been eight."

"_How _is that the point?"

"Ok, it's not." I begin walking toward the window; to her. My feet carry me without permission, but like before, she doesn't move. "But... I just meant that... I don't know, ok? I'm _so _lost here." My tongue moves and I cringe but she doesn't. "I feel... _something_... and I don't know how to make it go away." I reach out to take her hand in mine, my palm _burning _where her skin meets mine.

"Do you even want to?"

I think of everything. Well, as much as I can when she's actually letting me touch her again.

She's my teacher. I'm her student. She could be fired if anyone saw us right now, just holding hands after school. We're so far apart; not in years but in _life_. She has a child; I have a fake ID. She has a job, a career; I have abstract dreams of being someone. I'm in _fucking _high school; she... she is everything I never allowed myself to dream for.

"No." I finally say. It almost sounds like a whimper.

I look down at our hands and shift them to intertwine our fingers. Miss Fabray let's me. Then I raise my eyes to look at her beautiful face an my free hand lifts to rest on her cheek.

"Why are you crying?" I ask her, my thumb catching a warm drop on her cheek.

"I'm scared."

"I won't let anything happen to you."

I say it with a certainty that I wasn't sure I felt until this second, until she needed me to be certain. I don't know what's started just now, or even what she wants... but I know it's been building to this moment all year.

* * *

_"You're insane."_

_"No, you."_

_"There is not a time or place that exists within the time/space continuum where Trent Reznor is a better songwriter than Thom Yorke. It just can't be."_

_"Well, Miss Fabray, let's just call it a draw before you break out your Terminator lunch box, ok?"_

_"If you weren't my student, I'd..."_

_Her beautiful, pink smile falters and I can feel my brows arch. I'm getting cocky here, I know it. But what's she going to say? If I weren't her student, we'd just lay naked in bed listening to Radiohead all day until I agreed with her? I could do that. Sorry, Trent. But I could definitely sell out for this woman._

_"I'd tie you up and play _OK Computer_ until you passed out."_

_Ooh. By the look on her face, I can tell she's noticed the suggestive wording. Replace 'play OK Computer' with 'play with you as I pleased' and it's the stuff of dreams._

_"And if you weren't my teacher, I'd take you to Nine Inch Nails this Saturday."_

_It's light and airy, and the sun shines through the window to illuminate her honey blonde hair. And she smiles at me. For a long moment; longer than she's ever allowed herself to before. And there's that same blush that I've learned just how to tease for. She is lovely._

_"You should go eat something."_

_I exaggerate a pout and she immediately starts giggling. "I'm not hungry."_

_"Well, I am. So... shoo."_

_My jaw drops comically. It makes her laugh harder. "I'm telling the principal that you treat me like a dog."_

_And with that I turn sharply and stomp away, letting a smile nearly break my fucking face as I hear Miss Fabray call out distantly, "Bad girl!"_

_I shiver._

* * *

"Not here." She mumbles as she takes both of my hands in hers now, bringing them down between our bodies. "Meet me at 17 Main tonight, ok?"

"Ok." I nod rapidly.

"After dinner or something." She winks.

"Brat."

There's a long moment when I think she might take it back. She might tell me to fuck off and transfer schools before she tells everyone I tried to rape her, or something. The way her features scrunch and then relax repeatedly makes me think she's contemplating it.

"Get outta her, kid." She says with a smile on her face.

It makes me smile in turn.

And I leave…

And I shiver.

* * *

**AN2: Let me know what you think? I'm a little worried about the pacing, so let me know what you think of that. I will tell you, however, that they will **_**not **_**be jumping into bed at 17 Main. Just… not yet.**


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